


Stargazing the Dog Star

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: South Park
Genre: Crush, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweek's feelings for two of his friends are so complicated, he almost can't even talk to them anymore. When someone else expresses an interest in him, he discovers that you can't always get what you want—but if you try sometimes, well, you might find you get what you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazing the Dog Star

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [South Park Kink Meme](http://southparkkink.livejournal.com).

Tweek is sitting alone on the sofa in Token's enclosed back porch, stargazing between the night clouds, the nearly-empty beer bottle he's been nursing trapped between his knees as he fiddles with the mouth, running his thumb along the rim, sticking it inside, getting stuck. Again. He looks down, pressing his knees together more tightly and wrapping his fingers around the bottle's neck as he tugs until his thumb pops free. And around the glass rim he goes once more.

"Hey, dude."

The unexpected words make him start up instinctively, but a hand on his knee encourages him to stay where he is. He looks from the hand up into the easy smile Stan is giving him as he settles next to Tweek on the patio sofa. Tweek turns to the other side, where the voice came from. He knows he should return Kyle's greeting, but instead he lifts his bottle to his mouth, bites down on the rim gently ( _gently_ , he reminds himself; he learned the hard way a couple of years ago and doesn't want stitches in his mouth again), and tongues the opening.

Kyle smiles as if Tweek hasn't been impolite, as if this sort of thing is to be expected from Tweek, which is an expectation Tweek takes no comfort in, but there you go. "You want some company?"

If Tweek wanted company, he'd be inside with everyone else and probably, since the beer that's back between his knees now is not his first or his second and possibly not even his fifth, there is a very real danger that he'd be attempting to cuddle up to someone he absolutely must not, under any circumstances, ever, cuddle up to. Not because that person might not cuddle him back, but because he probably _would_ —which would be _terrible_ , because Tweek knows that person does not like him the way he kind of likes that person, and he knows that person likes someone else, and that someone else might be upset by the cuddling if he saw it, even if he doesn't like the person Tweek likes the way Tweek does or the way that person likes the someone else, and oh jesus it would be a disaster...

So yeah, no, Tweek doesn't really want company. But Stan and Kyle have settled in on either side of him, both of them looking extremely comfortable, and Tweek wouldn't feel right telling them to go away. And of course he can't go away himself because of the Cuddle Danger—unless he went all the way away from the party and back home. Which involves a whole other set of things Tweek just can't do, or doesn't want to, or anyhow he's not going to right now. All things considered, this is probably still the best and safest place for him, even if Stan's hand has shifted up to settle as comfortably on Tweek's thigh as Stan himself has settled onto the sofa.

The three of them sit there for some time, stargazing; Tweek sneaks glances at each of them to see what they're doing, which is how he knows all of them are looking at the stars.

"This is nice," Stan says after a while.

"Yeah," Kyle agrees. "Hey, how come we never hang out anymore?" Which makes no sense at all, because Stan and Kyle are _always_ hanging out, inseparable, like they're connected even when they're not holding hands, which they've been doing a lot over the past year.

A distressingly familiar feeling prickles up the back of Tweek's neck. He turns to see Kyle looking at him, an expectant quirk to his eyebrows. "Ah! What—me?"

Kyle's grin widens. "Yeah, you!"

"We used to hang out all the time, dude," Stan adds, and Tweek turns to him. "What happened?"

What happened was that they dropped him back in 4th grade without a word of explanation. They didn't give him the cold shoulder or anything; they just started acting like he'd never been part of their gang, so Tweek had started acting that way too, which was fine because it made it easier to accept when he finally figured out a couple of years later that, even when he'd hung out with them, he'd never truly been one of them.

No way will Tweek say that, though. He doesn't know why they're acting like this or saying the things they're saying, and he doesn't want to know. That's one of the most valuable things he's learned from Craig: when it comes to Cartman and Stan and Kyle and Kenny, you don't want to know. Just walk away, man.

Actually and physically walking away is not an option in this case, as Tweek has already worked out, so he decides to finish off his beer.

When he goes to raise it to his mouth, though, he realizes his thumb is jammed in the opening. Jammed in pretty good, like maybe it's been there awhile. He tries to pull it out discreetly, but it's stuck fast. Little grunts start escaping him as he tugs and tugs. He knows Stan and Kyle are watching him so, as he pulls as hard as he can, he ducks his head lower to avoid even accidentally meeting their eyes.

Finally, his thumb erupts from the bottle, along with a splash of beer; the bottle itself flies out of his grip and hits the floor with a thud. It lies there hemorrhaging the rest of the beer.

"Dude, are you okay?" Stan asks.

Before Tweek can answer, Kyle says, "Here let me see," and the next thing Tweek knows, Kyle is holding his hand, turning it gently as he examines Tweek's thumb in the moonlight. "Does it hurt?"

Tweek makes a sound that doesn't really mean yes or no, but which Kyle apparently takes for yes, because he lowers his head and licks Tweek's thumb, and then he closes his lips around it and starts to suck softly, oh sweet jesus, so softly...

"Better?"

Tweek jerks, Stan so close to his ear he's practically breathing into Tweek. He looks over his shoulder and Stan doesn't move, he's right there, so close—jesus, when did he get so close like this? Tweek strangles another sound in his throat; his teeth clench hard, but the dying gasps of the choked sound escape anyhow. Stan straightens up, his face far enough that Tweek can see him smiling now. He's looking at Tweek like he's waiting for an answer, but Tweek can't remember the question. A soft whine escapes him as he tilts his head at Stan, brow furrowing.

Stan smiles more. There's something hypnotic about the way he smiles, or at least that's the only explanation Tweek can come up with for why he doesn't shy away as Stan reaches for his face. His eyes start to cross as Stan's thumb comes closer, so he shuts them. The pad of Stan's thumb massages between Tweek's eyes, smoothing in an arc up along his brow. It must make Stan happy to do that because he's kind of growling contentedly—and then Tweek realizes the sounds are, oh jesus, coming from inside him.

"Told you," he hears Stan say. "Puppy," Stan says, and he must be talking to Kyle, sharing a private joke with him because Tweek can hear the smile in his voice, close again; the smile is getting wider and closer, wide and close enough to swallow Tweek whole.

"Yeah," Kyle says, his mouth leaving Tweek's thumb. Eyes still closed, Tweek tucks his abandoned hand close to his chest. Then Kyle is right there, his fingers in Tweek's hair, his mouth at Tweek's ear: "Stan's always wanted a puppy. Hey, Tweek, dude—you want to be our puppy?"

Tweek shifts sideways towards Kyle and his eyes want to snap open, but he holds them shut tight as a shiver ripples through him. Stan's fingers are in his hair now too, and he's close enough that if Tweek were to relax, the curvature of his spine would mold to Stan's torso. His teeth worry at his lip as he ducks his head. He turns a little in Stan's direction, but not all the way and he doesn't open his eyes. They're both still petting him and when Tweek opens his mouth, at first the only thing that comes out is a shaky sigh that they both take as a request for more; and as their fingers slide deeper into his hair, massaging his scalp, sliding down to play over the arch of his nape, Tweek thinks maybe it was. "Would you—" he tries when he finds another breath inside him. "Would you, like, cuddle your puppy ever?" As soon as the words are out, Tweek squirms in embarrassment. Oh god, why did he say that?

But they say, "Dude," at the same time, and then Stan says, "Of course."

Despite his words, he's shifting away. Tweek feels another whine rising in his throat, but then hands are turning him—Kyle's, because Stan is too far away to reach him like that. Kyle turns Tweek so he's facing Stan and then Stan says, "C'mere."

Tweek opens his eyes and sees Stan, reclining against the arm of the sofa, his eyes as pretty and dark as his hair in the dim light out here, his whole body open, arms held out.

"You're perfect, man," Tweek hears himself say. That's too much already but he keeps going helplessly: "You're like their baby, grown up."

Oh jesus, why would he say that? He tries to back away from his own words, his new whine a solid lump in his throat.

Kyle catches him, his arms encircling Tweek. Tweek wants to close his eyes but they won't obey him, he's still looking at Stan. He can't seem to stop looking at Stan, too much and too hard, and Stan looks so confused and oh god, oh fuck, it's because of Tweek. Tweek put that expression there and it's not the first time he'd done something like this and it probably won't be the last, and this is why he can't be around _them_ , that's why he was hiding out here, so he wouldn't ruin things with _them_ , and even though this isn't _them_ it's just as bad, oh man, Tweek just always fucking ruins everything—

"Yeah, I can see it," Kyle says. Tweek pushes back against him involuntarily, turning to look at him, Kyle's gaze fixed on Stan. "'Cause you kind of have the same build as Clyde, and your complexion is pretty close to Craig's."

"Oh." Stan takes a moment, then smiles. "That's kind of weirdly hot, dude," he says to Kyle, and then his gaze switches to Tweek: "Is that what you think?"

Tweek isn't really sure what he thinks anymore, not at this moment, not with Kyle's arms around him, not with Stan looking at him. All he can think is that he wants them to ask questions where the right fucking answer is "yes," and even though he doesn't know if that's the case here, he nods anyhow.

Maybe it's not the right answer but it must be close enough, because Stan holds his arms out again and says, "C'mere, dude."

This time Tweek goes; the encouraging little push Kyle gives him isn't necessary, but it's kind of nice, or at least Tweek thinks he likes it. And then he's not thinking about Kyle's push but Stan's pull, hands tugging him forward and down, encouraging him to drape himself over Stan's body. As Stan's arms wrap around him, Tweek lets out a breath heavy with all sorts of unnamed things, wriggling as he tries to get even more comfortable.

As Stan pets his hair and strokes his back, Tweek feels his breathing evening out. It's so nice like this, so fucking nice, it's everything he thought cuddling could be, like he's safe even from himself in these arms... "Good boy," Stan murmurs when Tweek nuzzles his neck. His voice is still low but Tweek knows he's talking to Kyle when he says, "I don't think we should fuck him tonight, after all."

Oh jesus, _what_? That's—Tweek didn't know that was on the table. Maybe they're just messing with him, though. He pushes up on Stan's chest so he can see his face, trying to disguise the grinding down of his hips with the movement.

As he's studying Stan's expression, which looks so sincere it's making Tweek start to shake again just a little, Kyle says, "I could still fuck you, though."

"Yeah," Stan says before Tweek can moan; says it looking into Tweek's eyes, like Tweek is just as much a part of this conversation as the two of them are: "I could cuddle him while you fuck me, maybe."

Tweek's fingers dig into Stan's shoulders harder than he means them to, but Stan smiles like he fucking likes it. With a soft growl, Tweek leans down to kiss Stan's smile, but when he gets there he only licks it. Stan parts his lips and licks back, his tongue guiding Tweek's into a kiss.

"Yeah, good," Kyle says, his voice somehow close and faraway at the same time. "But not here. Let's take him to your place."

Stan tries to say something but Tweek licks the syllables off his tongue. He would lick and kiss more, except Kyle's hand closes, gentle but firm, around his nape and tugs him back. Tweek wants more of Stan's mouth, but Kyle's hand is asking for obedience and Tweek gives it, holding himself still.

He continues to hold still as Stan pushes up into a sitting position beneath him. It's really hard to hold still when Stan takes his face in both hands and leans in, but Kyle's hand is letting him know that good pups don't squirm and Tweek wants to be good; oh jesus, he wants that more than anything. So he lets Stan hold his face and he doesn't try to lick at Stan's mouth as it gets closer.

Stan stops before he's close enough to lick, anyhow. He's looking into Tweek's eyes and Tweek doesn't know what Stan is looking for but he holds his eyes open the best he can between blinks, not sure whether or not he wants Stan to find whatever he's searching for. It's making little shivers crawl around under his skin, and some of those hot shivers are slipping into his bloodstream; he can feel them pooling shivery in his cock.

"He's wasted, dude," Stan says, looking deep into Tweek. "God, he's so wasted..."

There's something bad, something _regretful_ in the way Stan says it and, in spite of Kyle's hand, Tweek tries to lean forward and lick all the bad feelings out of Stan's mouth.

Kyle's hand tightens, stopping him. As his grip relaxes again, his other hand cradles Tweek's jaw, coaxing him to look back over his shoulder. "Is that right? Are you too drunk for this?"

Tweek knows what Kyle is looking for as he gazes into Tweek's blinking eyes; he knows the answer Kyle wants and Tweek wants desperately to give it, but oh christ, he can't remember the word for it. He feels utterly helpless. He can feel the answer on the tip of his tongue, so close, man, so fucking close...

He pushes himself forward, dares to push his tongue into Kyle's mouth, praying he'll be able to transmit the answer to Kyle that way.

It seems like Kyle knows what Tweek is trying to do because he licks at Tweek's tongue, even curling his tip beneath to lick the underside, as if the answer might be hidden there. The longer Kyle licks, though, the more uncertain Tweek becomes that he's getting the message. He licks back, hoping more slick friction will rub the answer from him onto Kyle, and Kyle will _know_ —

And maybe Kyle does know now, or else he's decided to check Tweek's skin for the answer. His hand slides under the hem of Tweek's shirt and Tweek reaches down, showing what a very good pup he is, one who doesn't need to be told to lift his shirt higher—but Kyle's hand doesn't move higher. It moves lower, jesus; lower, and Tweek licks more frantically; then, as Kyle's hand brushes over Tweek's trousers, grazing his cock and settling there, Tweek closes his teeth around Kyle's lip to stop a soft whine from spilling into Kyle's mouth.

Kyle's hand is gone from his cock and Tweek finds himself pushed back from the kiss, Kyle's fingers curled under his chin, tilting him so Kyle can look directly into his eyes. "Do we bite?"

Tweek's lips form the answer, but no sound comes out. He shakes his head without dislodging the fingers.

"No." Kyle smiles, accepting and affirming the answer: "We don't."

"Unless we're asked to," Stan says.

Tweek badly wants to turn and look at him, but he can't look away from Kyle's gaze. The desire alone might be interpreted as disobedience and Tweek tries to tuck it down, but Kyle is looking so deeply into him that he sees it anyhow. "Don't overwhelm him with exceptions and possibilities," Kyle says to Stan, without looking away from Tweek. "That can come later." He pauses, letting those words sink into Tweek: _later_ , as in the future, as in, oh god, _more_. With a shiver, Tweek parts his lips, his tongue hovering just inside, wanting to dart out, wanting more than air to lick.

Touching the corner of Tweek's mouth with the pad of his thumb, Kyle traces his lower lip, stopping in the middle. There's no pressure but Tweek opens wider. They touch tip to tip, Tweek's tongue to Kyle's thumb. He opens wider still, caressing the underside of Kyle's thumb, offering his mouth for whatever Kyle's thumb might want; and when Kyle's thumb wants to come in, Tweek cradles it with his tongue, keeping it warm and wet and safe from his teeth.

Kyle slides his thumb out slowly, and then it's his turn to hold Tweek's face in both hands. "Good puppy. Such a good boy." Tweek licks helplessly at the air, as if he can scoop Kyle's words into his mouth. Kyle leans closer and Tweek calms his mouth to be kissed, but Kyle only whispers, "It's a good thing Stan can't see you right now. He'd probably come in his pants." Tweek jerks forward, catching his hands mid-reach, folding them up and pushing them down into his lap. Kyle's teeth show a little when he smiles and Tweek can't take his eyes off them. "You want to see that?" Kyle's teeth ask Tweek from just inside his smile. "You want to see Stan come? Or," Kyle's smile flashes wider, showing more of his teeth, "maybe you want to taste it. You want Stan to come on your tongue, down your throat?" Kyle's hands slip from Tweek's face as he leans in closer still, until Tweek can't see his teeth or his smile anymore, feeling them at his ear instead. "Maybe he'll taste like Craig and Clyde combined. You want to find out?"

Oh _jesusfuck_ ; Tweek's lashes flutter shut as he goes molten inside. He starts to slip down, but Kyle—Kyle is there, Kyle is here with him, keeping Tweek from melting all away inside himself. Unable to express his gratitude any other way, Tweek rubs his cheek against Kyle's, relaxing impossibly more when Kyle strokes his hair.

"Hey, dude." Stan sounds more than curious, other than unhappy. "What are you doing to him?"

"Don't be jealous," Kyle says, but Tweek doesn't think Stan is jealous; Tweek is pretty familiar with jealousy and he doesn't think Stan has it. Then he feels Kyle's cheek shift against his in a smile, and he realizes Kyle knows Stan isn't jealous. Tweek flushes—how stupid of him to think he knew either of them better than the other does, how stupid to think he could ever be a cause of jealousy between them. And oh god, why would he even want to be? Why is he thinking these thoughts, now of all times? Jesus, he's going to ruin it—

"Hey," Stan says again, and this time he touches Tweek, soothes his hand down along Tweek's spine. "Are you okay?"

Even when Tweek realizes, a moment later, that Stan is addressing him, he can't respond. Unable to do anything else, he nuzzles Kyle.

Thankfully, Kyle understands. "He's just excited," he tells Stan.

"Well, try not to overexcite him too much."

Tweek feels himself shifted as Kyle leans to kiss Stan; tucked between them, he doesn't fall.

"Can you drive, dude?" Kyle traces brushes his thumb over Tweek's lower lip, tracing the curve back and forth. "I want to play with him on the way."

Stan makes a sound that's mostly like laughter and a little like something else. "Yeah, I'm cool to drive. Here, give me your keys."

There's more shifting and the jangle of keys, and then Kyle nudges Tweek's face up again. "Tweek. Stan and I are going to leave together first. Give us about ten minutes, then come meet us around the corner, okay? We'll be in my car—you know what it looks like, right?"

Tweek nods. It's a forest green Prius, but even if he didn't know that, it would probably be the only car idling on the street at this time of night. But then again, this time of night could be when child molesters idle their cars on the street. Not that Tweek is a child—but jesus, it's a good thing he knows what Kyle's car looks like. And it's nice of Kyle to make sure. Tweek smiles at him.

"Good." Kyle is smiling too as he gets up. "See you in ten."

"Okay, man." Tweek looks through the porch windows, listening to them go as he gazes at the stars. He knows some constellations but he can't remember how to find them. He turns his head back and forth, trying to scan for a touchstone—but just when he finds the Dog Star, brightest star in the sky, all the stars start swimming around. It's kind of pretty and he didn't know they could do that, unfix themselves and go wherever they want, but it's also making him dizzy, so he stops. He closes his eyes to let the stars reset themselves.

When he opens his eyes, he isn't sure how much time has passed. Oh man, maybe it's been more than ten minutes; maybe Kyle and Stan got tired of waiting for him and left without him. He lifts his wrist to check his watch—only to realize he doesn't know what time it was when Kyle told him ten minutes. Oh jesus. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging when he gets to the ends.

He should just, he should go out and look for them, right? They might still be there. And if they aren't, then he's already started on his way home, which is where he should go anyhow. When he gets up, he almost trips on the beer bottle he'd abandoned to the floor earlier, the one he got his thumb stuck in, which made Kyle, oh god, start _sucking_ on him like that. He bends to pick up the bottle so no one who wanders out here will trip on it or get their thumb stuck inside with no one around to suck on it for them, because it's fucking hot when someone does it for you, but when you do it yourself—man, that's just sad.

The party is still going strong inside. Tweek clutches the bottle to his chest as he makes his way through Token's house. With each step he takes, each step that's bringing him closer to Kyle and Stan or at least to home, Tweek's heart starts to beat harder and faster, and he picks up his pace to match his footsteps to his heartbeat.

His heart almost beats right out of his chest when he takes a corner maybe a little too fast and crashes into someone bigger than him, who puts out his hands to stop Tweek falling over.

"Hey, man, sorry about that—you okay?"

Bottle pressed hard to his chest to make his heart stay inside, Tweek looks up at Clyde. "Yeah, but jesus, man, it was my fault."

Clyde grins. "No one's fault. No harm, no foul, right?" He points to the empty bottle Tweek is clinging to. "Can I get you another?"

Tweek shakes his head. "No, I—I was just leaving."

"Yeah, I think I might take off, too." Clyde surveys the room. "Craig just left too, so." He shrugs, then seems to remember that Tweek is there and looks down at him again. "You want a ride?"

"Ah! Um. No?" Clyde is looking at him like he's still waiting for an answer, even though he's smiling. Tweek shakes his head and tries again. "Um, I'm, I have a ride already, from..." He trails off, remembering that Kyle and Stan don't want anyone to know they're taking him home. "Uh. Someone?" He's not sure this is a better answer than the one that wasn't good enough, and looks at Clyde hopefully.

"From 'someone,' huh? Well, good for you, man!" Then Clyde's grin changes, fading just a little and coming back bigger than ever. "Oh!" Tweek feels his brow knit as he looks at Clyde, wondering what is making Clyde's eyes all soft and bright like that. "I always knew you two would wind up together. About time you figured it out too. Good for you," he flashes his grin brighter at Tweek, "good for you."

Clyde's smile is so bright it kind of hurts Tweek's eyes to look at it, and he glances away. He's wondering how Clyde figured out about him and Kyle and Stan, and he's about to correct Clyde that it's three of them not two, when something Clyde said just before this catches up with Tweek's brain, and as the words collide inside him he figures out what Clyde is thinking—and oh jesus no, that's not it, that's not it at all, Tweek would never ever—

He looks up at Clyde helplessly. Kyle and Stan don't want Tweek to tell anyone who he's leaving with, so he can't tell Clyde he's not leaving with Craig. Clyde is smiling and he looks so happy, so genuinely fucking happy even though his heart has to be breaking; and as Tweek looks at the smile, he knows it's not fake, he knows Clyde is happy for Tweek even though his own heart is breaking, and, oh god, Clyde's smile hurts so much right now, Tweek can feel it in his own heart.

The bottle falls to the floor, any sound it makes swallowed up by the party. Tweek flings his arms around Clyde's neck, pressing himself against Clyde's chest as Clyde hugs him back. "I love you, man."

"I love you too, dude." Clyde smiles, ruffling Tweek's hair. "More than you know."

For a shining and terrible moment, Tweek thinks he _does_ know.

Then he closes his eyes, and forgets everything in the dark.

When he opens them again, Clyde is peering down at him. "Hey, you want me to walk you to Cr—to someone's car?" A wink accompanies Clyde's grin.

Tweek shakes his head. "I'm okay. I'll be okay, man."

"Okay." Clyde bends to kiss him on the forehead, which is somehow something that Clyde can get away with without being called a fag. "See you later," he says, more like he wants it to be true than he thinks it will be.

Or maybe it's Tweek thinking that. They've graduated, after all, and there are no guarantees anymore. "See you, Clyde." Tweek turns away before he can see whether or not Clyde is going to smile at him again. If Clyde calls him back, the words get lost in the party.

Tweek makes it to the door without anyone else stopping him. He opens it just enough to slip through, pulling it shut after him. His fingertips toy with the bits of lint his hands find in his pockets, rolling them into tight balls.

The pounding in his chest comes to an abrupt stop as he turns the corner and sees the Prius, then jumpstarts itself with his next step.

Kyle is sitting in the back seat and Tweek's fingers fumble with the handle of the car door but he gets it on the second try. He scrambles inside, pulling too hard so the door slams behind him. "Sorry, man." He opens his mouth to apologize more for being late, for banging the door, for wanting to go with them when he's in love with someone else.

Oh fuck. Oh god, he's—maybe Stan is right, maybe Tweek is too fucking wasted, because he's never, even in his own fucking head, he's never allowed himself to think those words, to know them. Because he's not, or he is, but he doesn't want to be. Because it's not fair. It's not fucking fair, it's _not fucking fair_ —

"What's not fair, Tweek?"

Oh jesus _fuck_ , did he say all of that out loud? He must have, because Kyle is looking at him and Stan has turned around in the driver's seat to look at him, too. He looks from one of them to the other, both of them waiting for him to say something, and he wants to, he really fucking does—but he can't, because there's nothing to say. It's too late, it's so far beyond words that, if he could get enough air into his lungs right now to laugh, he would. But he can't.

"Hey." Kyle starts across the seat towards him, but doesn't get far before Tweek slides to meet him, letting Kyle pull him into his lap.

"Fuck," Stan says from the front seat. "We can't do this, dude. We have to take him home."

Kyle pushes Tweek off his chest to take Tweek's face in his hands. Kyle's gaze seeps into him, calming all his molecular tremblings, letting his lungs expand to accommodate the deep breath Tweek takes into himself.

"Is that what you want?" The way Kyle is looking at him, Tweek knows the only right answer is whatever one he gives. But Kyle offers an option, anyhow: "Or do you want Stan to cuddle you now?"

Tweek lifts his hips as he tries to move forward. Mercifully, Kyle drops his hands and lets Tweek go to him. "I want him to cuddle me while you fuck him," Tweek whispers, his mouth as close to Kyle's ear as he dares get.

With two fingers under Tweek's chin, Kyle turns Tweek to face him. "Is that really what you want?"

Tweek nods solemnly.

"Oh, Tweek," Kyle sighs, and Tweek thinks he must have given the wrong answer after all.

Then Kyle kisses him, and sighs again into his mouth when Tweek opens for him.

"We should have done this a long time ago," Kyle says when they part. He pets Tweek, his fingers slipping down to massage Tweek's nape, making Tweek's lashes flutter as he tries to hold the gaze. "We should have told you how much we wanted you. But we knew you wanted those guys and we wanted to give them a chance."

Kyle is wrong, but Tweek doesn't tell him that. Or maybe he's not so wrong, because man, Tweek wouldn't have minded watching Craig fuck Clyde, if he got to cuddle with Clyde during and after. And before, too...

He's saved from his pointless reverie when Kyle says, "Those guys are f—"

"Kyle~" Stan warns from the front seat.

Kyle takes a deep breath. "Those guys missed out," he tells Tweek.

Tweek swallows hard. "I don't want to talk about those guys."

Kyle actually smiles at that, which throws Tweek off. "Me neither."

He leans forward to kiss Tweek, but when Tweek realizes he's going for the forehead, he jerks back. "Not—not there, man. Okay?"

"Okay, dude." Kyle cocks his head, his mouth hinting at a smile he isn't releasing yet. He lets his fingertips, the ones he has used under Tweek's chin, rest in the hollow of Tweek's throat. "What about here?"

"Yeah, um, that's okay."

Kyle bends to kiss him there, replacing his lips with his fingertips once more. His touch slides up to Tweek's adam's apple. "Here?"

Tweek nods, swallowing against Kyle's fingertips. This time Kyle kisses openmouthed, his tongue massaging and pressing against Tweek's throat. As he sits back, his fingers trail up Tweek's neck, along his jaw, finding the soft spot behind his ear. Tweek is already nodding yes before Kyle can ask, and Kyle obliges him with a kiss there. When Kyle's fingers ghost over his lips, Tweek closes his eyes and parts them for the next kiss.

But Kyle's mouth stays by his ear. "I was going to let you get in the front seat with Stan," he murmurs, "and have you suck him off while he drove." Tweek squirms in his lap and Kyle drops both hands to his hips, stilling him. "But now I think I want to keep you back here with me, so we can make out." He leans back so their gazes meet. "You want to make out with me, Tweek?"

Moistening his lips, Tweek tilts his head, tongue-kisses the air, held fast in Kyle's gaze.

"Come here, then," Kyle says softly, and Tweek does, welcoming Kyle into him when their mouths touch.

Kyle leaves the kiss only to say, "Drive." As Stan shifts the car into gear, Kyle kisses Tweek again, and they go.

Somewhere between Token's house and Stan's, Tweek passes out. One second he's kissing Kyle, arching as Kyle's hands wander over him; and the next he's opening his eyes to find himself slumped against Kyle, the car stopped, cool air washing in through the open door. He starts to jerk up, but Kyle's arm tightens around him.

"If you pretend to be asleep still," Kyle stage whispers, "he'll carry you in."

"Hng~no~," Tweek slurs, trying to blink himself into focus. He wonders if he passed out mid-kiss; oh jesus, he hopes not. Either way he definitely did pass out, which is bad enough; he feels his face flush appropriately, if inopportunely. "I can do it myself."

Stan, hand still on the handle of the door he's just opened, flashes Tweek a grin when Tweek looks up at him; the disappointment lurking at the edge of Stan's mouth is probably a trick of the light or Tweek's hazy vision. That has to be it because when Tweek gets out of the car and looks at Stan again, Stan is smiling normally at him. Tweek has always thought Stan has a nice smile, though he isn't sure that's why he wants to kiss it now. Before he can think himself out of anything, he goes up on tiptoe and, hand on Stan's shoulder to steady himself, licks the curve of Stan's mouth.

Tweek isn't expecting Stan to tug him deeper into the kiss, but that's what happens; he tightens his grip on Stan's shoulder, needing to hold on for real as his feet scuff over the asphalt sealant. He whines into Stan's mouth when Stan, oh god, cups his ass and pulls Tweek flush against him. Stan answers with a low rumble of his own; Tweek does his best to lick the vibrations off Stan's tongue, yielding to let Stan lick them onto the back of his teeth. Stan is a little taller than Clyde and Tweek finds himself trying to climb into the kiss more, his leg hooking over Stan's hip, Stan's hand sliding from Tweek's ass to help hold him there; tugging him even closer, and Tweek shivers at how hard Stan is. Jesus, he's so fucking hard, it has to hurt; it's making Tweek ache himself. If he hadn't fallen asleep in the car, maybe Kyle would have done it anyhow, let Tweek crawl into the front and suck Stan off while he drove, and then Stan wouldn't be hurting right now. With a whimper, Tweek licks his apology into Stan, squirming closer to press his own aching cock against Stan's so Stan will know he's at least not alone.

"Down, boy."

As Stan lets go and Kyle's hand closes around his nape, Tweek lets himself fall out of the kiss. He turns to look as Kyle continues, "We should take him inside now. I think our pup probably needs to be milked."

That dredges up a faded childhood memory for Tweek, a faint echo of a phrase, something transgressive, and even though he can't associate the memory with anything specific he has an idea what it could mean because both of them are looking at the outline of Tweek's cock pushing against his trousers; and it definitely means something to Stan, who looks longer and mutters something that sounds like, "oh fuck please"; it's the "please" that makes Tweek put the palm of his thumb in his mouth.

Stan needs a little encouragement from Kyle to focus: a hand in his hair, stroking through to settle on the back of his neck, a kiss and some words Tweek can't hear. Then Stan smiles at Tweek again and goes to open the front door.

Tweek doesn't remember the last time he was here, maybe freshman year for a collaborative history report; it's been a few years anyhow. Kyle is probably here every night, unless Stan is over at Kyle's. It was probably like that even before they became boyfriends, or near enough. Man, it must be nice to never feel lonely. Tweek looks at their backs wistfully as he follows them up the stairs, resisting the urge to reach out and latch their hands to each other.

At the top of the stairs, Tweek smacks into a little table he doesn't remember being here, hard enough to make the vase he also doesn't remember wobble badly; Stan and his reflexes catch it before it falls.

"Oh christ, I'm sorry!" Tweek's voice, probably too loud to begin with, echoes in the hallway and he stuffs his knuckles into his mouth. "Sorry, man," he apologizes anew around his hand. It comes out muffled and indistinct, but Stan still has the knack for Kenny-speak and he pats Tweek on the head.

"Don't sweat it, dude. There's no one here but us, and you didn't hurt anything anyhow." Stan's grin softens. "Except maybe yourself. How's your hip?" He touches it without waiting for Tweek's answer, fingertips sliding up over the waistband to dip inside, pressing lightly against Tweek's hipbone, probing for a bruise that doesn't yet exist.

"It hurts," Tweek says, quiet even though it's just them and he doesn't have to be; quiet because, man, it's just them.

"It hurts when I do this?" Stan's eyes darken with concern as he presses his fingertip tenderly over Tweek's bone.

Tweek swallows. "No, um..." He bites his lip, hand hovering.

"It's okay, dude. You can show me." Stan nods, as if he thinks Tweek needs extra encouragement.

Which Tweek does need. He needs a little more, even, and looks to Kyle. "Go ahead," Kyle says, with a smile that makes Tweek think Kyle knows already.

Tweek looks down and watches his hand curl around Stan's wrist, moving him off the hip. Stan has to know where they're going before they get there, but he lets Tweek guide him until his the back of his fingers brush Tweek's cock: Tweek sucks his breath in hard at the touch and holds it, while Stan—oh jesus, Stan pushes his out in a heavy sigh and goes to his knees. "Kyle," Stan says, glancing over his shoulder so quickly that Tweek doesn't think their eyes could have met, "I have to."

And then Stan has Tweek's zipper down, reaching in to take Tweek out before Tweek can let go of the breath he's holding; the first bare touch makes Tweek lose that breath and suck in another one quick. He looks down at himself, at his cock in Stan's hand, the tip blood-darkened and glossy with precome. Stan starts to pet him, fingers skimming so lightly Tweek can barely feel the touch and yet, oh god, it's almost too much, the way Stan is touching him. Tweek is shaking pretty hard so he can't be sure, but he thinks Stan is shaking a little, too.

"Hey, no, Stan," Kyle says when Tweek kneels, too. "I mean, dude, I know your parents aren't here—but not in the hall, maybe? If he can't stand, you can carry him to your room~ or he can crawl."

The breathy pause Kyle took between the options tells Tweek which one Kyle wants to see. He puts one hand on the floor and looks at Stan to see what he thinks.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Stan says when their eyes meet. "You know that, right?" He pets Tweek's hair when Tweek nods. "Not just the crawling, but everything—you don't have to do anything tonight that you don't want to."

Tweek nods again. "Ah, I know. But I want to, man. I want to do everything."

"Good boy," Kyle says above them. Tweek looks up, wondering when he moved closer. Kyle doesn't kneel with them but he bends, his fingers curling under Tweek's chin once more, stretching to stroke the underside of his jawline. Tweek's knees splay out a little, pushing him lower to the floor. "That's a good boy." As Kyle draws his hand away, Tweek tilts his head to lick at his fingers, and Kyle lets him.

"That one's Stan's," Kyle says when he straightens fully. Tweek looks to where he's pointing, glances up one more time at Kyle, then focuses his gaze on the open doorway and begins to crawl.

He sits back on his heels by Stan's bed after he enters the room. They're not far behind him: Stan gets on his bed, sitting up against the headboard, while Kyle pulls Stan's desk chair over for himself. Tweek looks back and forth between them, until Stan pats the mattress next to him. Climbing up, Tweek resumes his kneeling position. Stan kneels up too and starts unbuttoning Tweek's shirt, but when Tweek reaches to reciprocate, Kyle says, "No." Hands hovering, Tweek looks at him; Kyle smiles and leans over to stroke Tweek behind his ear, and Tweek drops his hands and thumps his foot soundlessly against the bed.

"Oh god," Stan practically moans, causing Tweek to look at him just in time for Stan's mouth to brush his, opening Tweek up with the tip of his tongue. They keep kissing as Stan pushes Tweek's shirt off his shoulders, and Tweek feels the material slide down his arms as Kyle takes over and pulls it off from behind.

When Stan pushes against his shoulders, gentle and insistent at the same time, Tweek untucks his knees as the kiss breaks and goes down onto his back. He bunches the comforter in his hands to hold himself in place as Stan tugs off first his trousers and then his briefs. Tweek thought he'd feel vulnerable like this, naked with them clothed, and he does. But it's a good vulnerable, man. Or at least his dick seems to think so.

"You want these on or off, dude?"

Tweek looks at Kyle holding his foot, still sock-clad. He doesn't know how to answer—and then he sees that Kyle isn't asking him.

Giving the question serious consideration, Stan sits back. His gaze skims up and down Tweek's body before he says to Kyle, "On, okay?"

With a grin, Kyle pats Tweek's foot with one hand and sets it down on the mattress with the other. That hand slides up Tweek's leg, oh jesus, making Tweek's cock twitch in anticipation. When Kyle doesn't touch him there, skimming along his hip bone and coming to rest on his belly, Tweek whines openly.

Stan makes a choked sound and moves up to bury his fingers in Tweek's hair. His other hand joins Kyle's; Tweek feels their fingers touch on his belly before Kyle's come up and, oh god, start toying with Tweek's nipples, flicking one and then the other, as Stan rubs his belly. Tweek squirms. It feels good but neither of them is touching his cock—and when he realizes he's taking a weird kind of pleasure in that, Tweek squirms even more. He pushes up on his elbows, straining to catch Kyle's hand with his tongue even though it's too far away.

He feels Kyle's other hand take him by the hair at his nape, and lets himself be eased back down. When Kyle takes his hand from Tweek's head, he brushes the back of it along Tweek's jaw and Tweek tilts back for more of the caress, his eyes falling shut. Then Kyle's thumb rubs along Tweek's lip and lingers, inviting Tweek to lick and suck, nudging deeper into his mouth when Tweek does.

And that's when, oh _jesus_ , Stan's hand closes around his cock.

Tweek arches as Stan strokes him base to tip, squeezing his cockhead before coming off and going down to palm his balls. The whining that starts low in his throat is muffled until Kyle takes his thumb from Tweek's mouth, which makes Tweek growl out a whimper; and then his mouth falls open helplessly as Stan returns to his cock and starts stroking for real.

He keeps his eyes closed when he feels a hand, probably Kyle's, wrap around his wrist and bring his hand up to his own shoulder, curling the fingers into a loose fist. Tweek doesn't need to be told to do the same with his other hand, and he even bends his knees more, tucking them up and spreading his legs wider. Stan's fingers, slick with something more than Tweek's precome, start moving faster, perfect, jesus, oh jesus, perfect pressure, perfect rhythm, so fucking perfect.

The pressure inside Tweek is building in coils. He licks his lip, bites it, licks again. He has to tell Stan he's close to coming, but every time he opens his mouth all he does is lick himself, the only thing that rolls off his tongue when it flicks at the air is a moan or a whimper.

Kyle offers his thumb again, but Tweek nudges it aside, opening his eyes and sliding his gaze towards Kyle. The way Kyle is stroking his cheek makes Tweek's lashes flutter down, though, and he lets them stay that way. He arches his hips to Stan's strokes, rubs his face against Kyle's, and whimpers out, "Red rocket."

Stan's hand stutters on Tweek's cock, making Tweek arch more desperately. "Did he—did he just say...?"

"Yeah, dude, he sure did."

Kyle sounds amused and Tweek shuts his eyes tighter as Stan moans, "Oh fuh~", the rest of the word lost as his mouth envelopes Tweek in slick heat.

"Fuck!" Tweek finishes for him, arching up hard. "Ohjesusfuck~" He turns his head and mouths his curled hand, bites his knuckles and soothes his tongue over them as Stan sucks him off

Even when all the pressure inside Tweek melts before it can break, Stan keeps his mouth on Tweek, catching all the spillage with his tongue.

Stan actually seems to be kind of in love with Tweek's cock because he starts humming around it, the vibrations traipsing along Tweek's skin and making him squirm even as he's coming down.

Then Tweek opens his eyes and looks down his body, and he sees that Stan, who has been stripped from the waist down, is not in love with his cock after all; what he's in love with is Kyle, who is kneeling behind him, and Kyle's fingers, which are disappearing, Tweek imagines, inside Stan.

When Kyle catches him looking, he holds Tweek's gaze for a couple of strokes. As Tweek's relinquished gaze slides from Kyle, it catches on Stan: on Stan being pulled off Tweek's cock to kneel up, twisting over his shoulder to kiss Kyle, Kyle's arm slanting across his torso as he holds Stan to him. Stan's cock, untouched, looks so lonely and needful, and Tweek spreads his legs even wider in offering.

Stan comes down to him, encouraged by Kyle's hand in the small of his back, but he doesn't push inside Tweek. Instead he takes one of Tweek's ankles, straightening the leg and pulling it down, straddling the thigh as he lowers himself against Tweek, his cock caught between them as he feeds Tweek some of the come lingering on his tongue.

While they kiss, Tweek yields to Kyle's hands, letting Kyle reposition him; he feels Stan do the same. Then Stan grunts into Tweek's mouth, pushing deeper into the kiss, his cock sliding against Tweek's belly, and Tweek knows Kyle must be inside him now. He tries to picture Kyle's cock but he doesn't know what it looks like, except that it must be circumcised. Tweek has seen circumcised dicks before and he decides to give Kyle the prettiest one he can remember as he pictures it now: Kyle's naked, glistening cockhead tracing Stan's crack the way Kyle has been tracing Tweek's lips with his thumb, nudging inside, filling him, oh god, making Stan fill Tweek's mouth with his moans. Tweek clutches Stan to him as he swallows all the vibrations and traces of come Stan is giving him, then easing the embrace to push Stan's shirt up in back, flattening his palms and splayed fingers to Stan's bare skin.

Kyle starts fucking Stan for real then and Stan's hips push back, only to be pushed against Tweek again. Stan leans up on his elbows to brace himself, but he's still sliding, hot and slick, against Tweek's belly with each of Kyle's thrusts. "You're so fucking soft, dude," Stan murmurs, eyes closed, and it takes Tweek a moment to realize Stan means his hair, which Stan's fingers are buried in. Tweek turns his head to the side and Stan's fingers slip down to toy with the soft whorls at his nape. Tweek wonders if maybe Stan would want Tweek on his stomach instead of his back, so Stan could slide his cock along Tweek's nape instead of his belly, come in his hair instead of on his skin like he does right now.

Stan's moan drops into a growl which chokes off into a series of open-mouthed gasps as he continues coming, a fistful of Tweek's hair clutched in his fingers. As soon as Stan's grip eases, Tweek turns his head and licks at Stan's face until Stan brings his lips to Tweek's. They keep kissing, Stan's fingers loosely twined in Tweek's hair as his body slackens.

The mattress dips as Kyle lies down beside them. Tweek opens wider when he feels Kyle's thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he and Stan kiss like that, licking each other's tongues and Kyle's thumb, before Kyle slips out and the kiss breaks.

Kyle is looking at Stan when Tweek opens his eyes, and when Stan shifts to kiss Kyle, Tweek feels like he should close his eyes again but he doesn't. Stan scootches back to rest his head on Tweek's chest as Kyle strokes his hair.

Then Kyle looks at Tweek. Tweek doesn't think he can bear the weight of Kyle's silent gaze, so he blurts out, "Did you, ah, come?" Jesus, he didn't know that's what he was going to say when he started to open his mouth, but it's too late now. He bites the side of his tongue, anyhow.

Kyle just nods, though. "Yeah, I came before he did." He watches his own fingers in Stan's hair as he says, "Which is...pretty unusual." He gives Tweek a smile when he looks back, and Tweek doesn't know what to think.

He's saved from having to think anything just yet by Stan, who says, "Fuck, I'm thirsty. I'm gonna go get us some water."

He doesn't move, though, and Kyle laughs. " _I'll_ go get us water. Be right back," he adds as he pulls up his pants before climbing over them.

Without Kyle next to them, Stan slides off Tweek, coming to rest on his side. Hand on Tweek's hip, he coaxes Tweek to turn to him. Tweek keeps his hands tucked under his chin as Stan pets his hair. "Did you like it?" Stan asks. "Being our puppy?" His cups Tweek's ear, fingertips caressing in circles behind it. "You were a really good puppy, dude. I always wanted a puppy like you." Swallowing his sigh, Tweek squirms a little closer; Stan's hand slips back to his neck, thumb sketching idly along Tweek's nape now, drifting up into his hair and back down. "If you want to play with us again, I promise I'll actually cuddle you while Kyle fucks me. I know I didn't really deliver on that this time, but if there's a next time—"

Tweek cuts him off: "Ah, if there's a next time, man, maybe I could suck your cock while Kyle fucks you."

Propping up on his elbow, Stan tilts his head as he looks at Tweek. "I thought you were into cuddling...?"

Stan is studying him pretty seriously and Tweek only hopes his shakiness doesn't show. "You don't want me to blow you?"

"I want you to do what you want to," Stan says, stroking his hair again.

Tweek tries to swallow his whine of frustration. Jesus, man, he doesn't want to spell it out. He can't tell if Stan really doesn't know what Tweek is getting at or if he, for some reason, wants to make Tweek say it. Either way, Tweek doesn't see how he has a choice. "What would Kenny do?"

Stan's forehead furrows, his brows knitting toward each other. His mouth opens but only emits a soft inarticulation before he closes it again.

The words come from behind them: "Why would you ask that?"

Kyle is leaning in the doorway when Tweek turns, a bottle of water cradled in the crook of his arm, another dangling from his fingers. His brow is furrowed too, but not in the same way Stan's is.

"Well, jesus, because I'm a substitute for Kenny, right?" Tweek sits up and glances to Stan for confirmation, but Stan still looks caught out so Tweek returns his gaze to Kyle. "Like before, when we were kids and you made me your friend for a while?"

"Tweek." Kyle crosses the room and sits next to him. Tweek waits for Kyle to take his face in his hands or maybe to tilt him up by the chin, waits to fall under the spell again. But Kyle doesn't touch him. He looks at Tweek, not to make Tweek look back, just to look at him. Since Kyle isn't holding him in the gaze, Tweek falls out of it, focusing on his sock-covered toes. "Listen, Tweek," Kyle says as Tweek tries to wiggle his pinky toe without moving his other toes, "we get that you're using us as substitutes. But that's not what we're doing, dude." Tweek stops wiggling his toes, though he doesn't look up from them. "It's not like that for us. We've, like, _fantasized_ about you for years, dude."

Now it's Tweek's turn to go blank. He tries to have a reaction to Kyle's words, like a normal social response, but jesus he has no idea what the normal social response is to this, if there even is one.

He at least know it's his turn to say something, though, and since he can't be socially normative about it, he goes ahead and says what's on his mind: "I'm blond." He wiggles his big toe and thinks he has it, but on the upswing all his other toes join in. He sighs. "Like Kenny."

"Dude, that's not why we picked you as our friend," Kyle says. "We picked you because you were _cool_."

"I did like his hair, though, even then," Stan tells Kyle after a moment. "I always, like, wanted to pet it when we had sleepovers..."

"Even then?" Kyle asks.

"Even then, dude," Stan says. Tweek sneaks a glance to see if Stan is making fun of him. Stan smiles when their eyes meet. "Don't worry, I never did it."

"I'm not worried," Tweek blurts out.

It's not unusual for Tweek to have to think about something after he's said it. His brow furrows as he considers his own words. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it might actually be true.

He shifts so he can look at both of them. He didn't feel anxious at all when he was their puppy. Some of his anxiety is leaking back in now, but he's not actually _anxious_ about Kenny. It was just the only thing he could think of to explain anything. If they don't want him because he reminds them of a spazzier version of Kenny, then why—?

"Why?" he echoes his thoughts aloud. "I don't get it, man. Why would you want to be with me?"

"We like you, Tweek," Kyle says, as if that explains anything. "We always have."

A growl reverberates in Tweek's throat as he tries to make himself understand before Kyle can get frustrated with him.

"Dude." Low laughter mixes with Stan's sigh. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?" There's no trace of laughter in the breath Stan pushes out when Tweek cocks his head, brow arching in question. "You are so fucking hot, dude."

"I'm not hot," Tweek says. "I'm just—I think I'm just kind of cute maybe?" It's what he's heard some of the girls say about him, anyhow. He flushes with an embarrassment more acute than the one he felt when he overheard their assessment. "Ah, sorry, man—"

"No, he likes adorable," Kyle says, mouth quirking up on one side. He turns his grin on Stan. "So I guess we'll never know what you see in me."

"You're adorable," Stan says. When Kyle arches a brow at him, Stan amends, "Your Jewfro is adorable," reaching up touch it.

Kyle touches it too. "Only reason I keep it, dude."

 _They're_ the ones who are fucking adorable, man. Feeling like he's intruding on a private moment, Tweek tries to make himself smaller.

His movement has the opposite of the desired effect, though, and he finds himself the object of their attention once more. He looks away. He can feel them still looking at him, but they're not saying anything. A little more of the old anxiety is seeping back into him. He doesn't want to be anxious anymore.

"Do you still want a puppy like me?" He glances sidelong, then turns to look from one smile to the other.

"Here, boy," Stan says as he lies down and Kyle shifts his own legs to the side, clearing a path on the bed. When Stan pats the space between him and Kyle, Tweek scrambles into it. "Good boy," Stan murmurs, drawing him closer and petting him.

Kyle tucks up against his other side, stroking his jaw and under his chin. "Our good boy."

Tweek's foot thumps, slow and steady and content, against the bed.


End file.
